


Then Comes Baby

by GLEEAnna



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, Mpreg, Past blainofsky, Unplanned Pregnancy, mpreg blainofsky, mpreg dave karofksy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-10-31 23:06:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10909332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GLEEAnna/pseuds/GLEEAnna
Summary: Dave shows up on Klaine's doorstep, with a big problem.  How will the three of them handle unplanned fatherhood?





	1. Dave's Got Trouble, and That Starts with T, and That Rhymes with P, and That Stands for Pregnant

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gladygirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gladygirl/gifts).



> Okay, when Jaded-Idealism first prompted a Blainofsky unplanned m!pregnancy being discovered AFTER Blaine marries Kurt, I proposed two options - one where it's Blaine (See "The Odds") and a crackier one where it's Dave. Here's the Dave option. In this universe, cis males have the ability to get pregnant, but homophobia does exist, and with it, prejudices about male pregnancy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Golly gee why is Dave sick in the mornings

Five a.m. at the men’s dorm on a Saturday, and Dave Karofsky was already awake -- and yet again kneeling on the filthy floor of a cramped stall in the men’s bathroom.  

No, not in front of a new ‘friend’ for a little playtime, like he used to occasionally with bear-like men similar to himself, back before he’d moved in with Blaine Anderson, for a brief, but happy few months.  The truth was, he hadn’t had the inclination to even fool around with anybody else, not since Blaine had first rocked his world, with his doll-like face, his tidy, smoothly groomed little body, and more than anything else, his boundless energy and perpetual motion both in and out of bed.  God, he missed that little jackhammer of an ex.  He’d done the right thing, sending Blaine back where he wanted to be, with Kurt.  But it would take a little time to get over him.

No, this was far from fun.  He was draped over the toilet, and worse, it wasn't a hangover; he hadn't boozed it up with his bros in ... forever.  If you must know, last night, he’d been zonked out in his dorm room alone with a pint of Chubby Hubby Ben & Jerry’s and a bag of pretzels by 8:30, nursing his still-sore heart.  His sensitive broken heart had taken another bruising when he’d opened up Facebook to check out pictures from Santana and Brittany’s wedding.  Brittany had dis-invited him - - supposedly because she'd never forgiven him for taking Santana to the Junior Prom.   The pictures on her feed told a truer story.  Britt's wedding had turned into a surprise double gay wedding extravaganza co-starring Kurt and Blaine: aka, the guy Dave had been living with not ten days ago, in his one-and-only serious romantic relationship.

The only explanation Dave could come up with for his current situation, the eighth day in a row he’d woken up and raced to crouch over the toilet, was that he had the weirdest. Flu. Ever.  One that started first thing in the morning and kept him sick as a dog for exactly long enough to be late for football practice and get chewed out by Coach Beiste, now the coach of his college team, every day this week.  And one that then mysteriously cleared up for the rest of the day, replaced by a strange listless fatigue.  All he wanted to do most of the time now was sleep.

He was seized by another fit of retching, thankful that, at least, nobody else in the dorm was up to hear him.  Wiping his sweaty face, he decided.  

Better talk to Coach Beiste.

 ____________________________________

Coach Beiste finished wiping the drawn-on circles, arrows and dotted lines from the gym whiteboard, set the eraser on the tray, and then turned around slowly.  “So you’re telling me you’ve been sick every morning for the last week?” 

“That’s right, Coach, you know I’ve never been late for practice before,” Dave said anxiously.  "I never would if I could help it."

Coach sighed and rubbed his head.  “Dave, you know I have your back … I’ve coached you longer than any of my boys.  And I know what you’ve been through. But I’ve already looked the other way more than I really should have.  You should be on suspension.”

“Even though I’ve been sick?  C’mon, Coach - - “

Beiste held up his hand.  “I’ll hold off on suspension, if you get a medical excuse from the team doctor.  He’s in his office now.  Let’s go take care of it.”  

“Right now?  And - both of us?” Dave asked, jogging behind him.  

“Your scholarship depends on meeting team requirements, including practices and games, son.  The other players are making noise about you being out.  I need to cover both our asses.”

“It’s just - - I’m feeling okay now, is all.  I’m not sure - -”

Coach reached the team doctor’s door and flung it open, barreling through.  “Doc?  You have time to see one of my boys?”

 _______________________________________

Dr. Jeff sure had a lot of questions!

“I’ve had the symptoms for maybe two weeks.  Pretty bad for the last week,” Dave answered the last question.

Dr. Jeff scribbled something in his chart.  “You're sure - - only in the morning?”

“Yeah,” Dave nodded, opening his mouth for the thermometer.  

“Appetite good otherwise?”

He nodded again, and the doctor took the beeping thermometer from his mouth.  

“Normal temperature.  Lie on your back, let me check your abdomen.”  

Dave lay back and pulled up his tee shirt.  He let out a high-pitched giggle and squirmed ticklishly under Dr. Jeff's hands.  

“Stay still, son,” the doctor said absently.  He picked up his chart again.  “I take it you’re gay?”

Dave frowned.  “Yes.  Why do you ask?”

“Have you been sexually active lately?”

“No.  I broke up with my boyfriend about a month ago,” Dave said, still mystified.  "Not since a day or two before then."  The light dawned on him.  "Oh- you think - no.  That can't be.  I went on the pill three months ago.”

"You have to use a separate method of birth control in addition to the pill for the first month, Dave.  The pill doesn't become effective right away, it has to build up in your system.  You didn't do that, did you?  I'd put you at about two months along."

"I - yeah, I knew that!  And we _were_ careful - suspenders  _and_ a belt - - "  Dave stared at Dr. Jeff, disbelieving.  “That - that- that - “   He trailed off.  "Two months, you say?"

  _T_ _hat_ would coincide with the one time, toward the end of the first month he'd been on the pill, that they'd gotten carried away in the bed of his truck after he’d scored the winning touchdown at an away game, and …  there hadn't been a condom handy.  Oh no. Oh no.

“So.  You’ll need to confirm the pregnancy with a blood test and ultrasound,” the doctor was saying.  “I’ll write a script for both.  You can get that at the hospital.  If you’re pregnant, then, you need to think about your options.”

“My options? Are you talking about - an abortion?”  He shook his head.  “I couldn’t!  If it’s true, if I am - I can’t just kill a baby!”

Coach Beiste put a hand on his shoulder and said kindly, “Dave.  It’s not killing a baby.  It’s keeping one from happening.  Listen.  I’m not going to tell you what you should do here.  That’s up to you.  But …” Coach looked helplessly at the doctor.

“What your coach is telling you is, you can’t play college-level football if you’re pregnant.  It’s not safe, and the NCAA won’t allow it.  Until I get a letter from a doctor confirming you’re not pregnant, I’m not able to clear you to play ball.” 

 ______________________________________________________________________________

 Dave found himself handing in his dorm key, and numbly loading his belongings into his car, in surprisingly short order. The dean had explained it this morning. He was at the school to play ball. His scholarship depended on it. No football, no scholarship. And no scholarship meant no school. 

 He slammed the trunk of his car, and got in, buckling his seat belt, and fumbled the key into the ignition.  He realized, after he turned the key and the engine roared to life.  He had nowhere to go.  

Mom had basically written him off back when he was outed senior year in Breadsticks trying to woo Kurt Hummel with a box of caramels and a gorilla suit.

Dad had taken his side, and was there for him in the troubled time that followed. But it cost his parents’ already unsteady marriage. And that bitter divorce had cost them their house, a McMansion with an upside down mortgage that ultimately the bank took away. Dad got laid off not long after, and had to take a job in Akron for about half what he made before, and was living in a small studio apartment.  All he could afford now.

Dad had never blamed him for the divorce, unlike Mom. And Dad had been so proud and excited when Dave got his football scholarship, and his college expenses had been taken care of. Dave had planned to do great at school, get a great job in a few years. Take care of Dad for a change.  And he blew it through plain carelessness.  He shut his eyes.   How was he going to tell Dad he screwed up his entire life like this and needed help?  He couldn’t do it.  Not tonight, anyway.

Friends?  He realized now, he didn’t have any.  Not any real ones.  He had to keep so much of himself a secret, up to now … none of the guys in his fraternity or on the team even knew he was gay; the football and frat boy cultures were too homophobic to risk being out at school.  And on top of being gay, now he was a pregnant man.  Most homophobes had a special hatred for men who choose to carry their pregnancies to term.   So long story short, Dave couldn’t think of a single friend at school he could trust with his problem, or turn to for help.

Where was he going to go?

 As he glanced in the rear view mirror, he squinted.  

Coach Beiste was running toward the car, waving his arms.  When he reached the car, Coach opened the passenger side and got in, shutting the door and breathing heavily.

“Um.  Coach…?” Dave started. 

Coach put up a finger, panting.  “Just a second.  Little out of shape … knees aren’t what they used to be.”

Dave nodded, and after a moment, Coach turned to him, eyes as kind as always, just as they were when Dave played ball on his team at McKinley.

“Dave … do you have someplace to go?  Your parents?”

He shrugged.  “ My dad lives in Akron, but he’s in California on business right now.  My mom … I don’t even know her phone number anymore.”

“Where’ll you go tonight?”

“Hotel, for now, I guess.”

Sheldon looked worried.  “What about Blaine?   Can’t he help you out?”

“I haven’t spoken to him since I moved out.”  Tears pricked behind his eyes.  “He’s married now, Coach.  You were there.  Love story for the ages, right?  I’m sure this is the last thing he wants to deal with.”

“Maybe so.  But if he’s going to be a father, then he’s going to have to deal with it.  This is his responsibility- just as much as yours.  I think you’re gonna hafta talk to him, Dave. I’ll go with you if you need support.“


	2. Chapter 2 - Happy Home

The smell of fresh paint filled the air, and the walls glistened a pearly white.  Kurt surveyed the bedroom with satisfaction.  It had taken two coats of paint, but all traces of rainbows and unicorns, and of the other man who had lived here with his husband not long ago, were now obliterated.  He peeled off his paint-splashed coveralls and bundled them up for the laundry.  

The bed Blaine had shared with that other man had been disposed of by friends while he and Blaine toured Provincetown on their honeymoon.  Their brand-new king-sized bed, a wedding gift from Burt and Carol, stood in its place, covered in brand-new high thread-count white sheets and fluffy white down comforter, courtesy of Mercedes.  Sheer white curtains from Pam fluttered at the open windows.   

He and Blaine planned to stay here only until Christmas, then sublet the apartment to a Lima University transfer student.  Renting it out in its previous condition, ceiling-to-floor rainbows everywhere the eye could see, would have been a challenge.  But more important, the room now looked like what it was: a blank canvas, a fresh start.

“Looks really nice,” Blaine commented. He picked up the tray liner and carefully poured the remaining paint back into the paint can, then gathered the rollers and paintbrushes on the empty liner. “I’ll just wash these while we wait for dinner to be ready. Shouldn’t be too much longer.”

“It smells great,” Kurt said, following him into the kitchen area. “What is that, beef stew? New recipe?” He stirred the pot and sniffed curiously.

“Sort of. I really like it.” Blaine set the rinsed-out brushes and rollers on paper towels by the sink and wiped out the sink with a sponge. “I hope you do too.”

“I’m sure I will.” Kurt grabbed two sets of cutlery with one hand, and two shallow bowls with the other, and started setting the table, while Blaine took a salad out of the refrigerator.

They bustled around the kitchen, Kurt slicing bread and uncorking a bottle of wine, while Blaine put the finishing touches on the entree. “I think we can start with salad while this thickens,” Blaine remarked, tasting the stew.

Kurt handed Blaine his glass of wine as he took his seat. “Well. To new directions, in more ways than one. Married life,” he smiled. “And working together … with the Warblers and the New Directions.”

“The most over-coached high school glee club in history, you mean?” Blaine remarked, clinking his glass with Kurt’s. “Mr. Schue, Rachel, you and me. Overkill much?”

“Probably. But I plan to enjoy this last hurrah at McKinley before we go back to New York.”

Blaine nodded, biting his lip.

Kurt set his glass down, and took Blaine’s hand. “Honey … I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be insensitive about Dalton. I know it meant as much to you as McKinley does. You went there as long as you went to McKinley. It was special to me too, you know. After all, it’s where we met and first fell in love.”

“We had a lot of special times there,” Blaine agreed. “But times change, I guess. And you’re right. It’s nice to have this time together, working side-by-side with this new team made up of both McKinley and Dalton kids.”

"Yes - " Kurt started, interrupted by a firm knocking sound at the door.  "Are you expecting somebody?" he asked, glancing at the clock.  

"No, I can't think who'd drop by at dinnertime without calling.  Maybe someone selling something," Blaine answered.  

The tapping grew more insistent, and a voice sounded on the other side. "Punkins?  You home?"

"Coach Beiste?" Kurt exclaimed.  He stood up, and hurried to the doorway, Blaine close behind, and opened the door.  "What a wonderful surprise!  Come on in - have you eaten?  Blaine's made enough for a small army.  Join us?"

"I'd love to tie on the feedbag, you know that," Coach answered.  "But there's somebody else here too."  He reached to the side and yanked a sheepish Dave Karofsky into view.  

"Hey Kurt.  Blaine.  Um.  Congratulations on the wedding," Dave said, reddening.  "I - woulda got you something, but - -"

"No need to give us anything, Dave.  I - wanted to say thanks, actually.  For being so encouraging to Blaine, and all - and for that matter, I guess for being there for him when he needed you.  Look, let's be civilized about this.  Come on in, and pull up a chair, both of you," Kurt said.

"If it's a bad time, we can come back later," Dave said, still standing in the hallway.  "Or never," he added.  

Coach slapped him lightly on the arm.  "You know this conversation can't wait.   I'm here for support, it'll be all right."

Kurt and Blaine were busily setting two extra places at the table, but Kurt looked up sharply.  Dave finally came in, shutting the door behind him, and sniffing the air.  "Hey!  Grandma Murray's stew? Blaine, you're cooking Grandma's recipe?  That's my favorite!"

"Your ... Grandma's ... recipe?" 

Blaine looked nervously at Kurt.  "It's a great recipe," he choked out.  "Um.  If you're both staying... could you grab some cutlery - -"

"Drawer next to the sink," Dave said crisply.  "Got 'em Boo--um.  Blaine."

Blaine turned scarlet and quickly picked up the vat of stew.  "Better start on this," he mumbled, as Kurt glared at him over his wine glass.  Blaine set the large pot on a trivet in the center of the table.  

"I'm sorry, Kurt.  That slipped out."  Dave sank into the nearest chair.

"That's my seat," Kurt said in a clipped voice.  "But stay there.  Blaine, how about if you sit across from Dave."  He pointed at the chair, and then started sloshing stew into the four bowls Sheldon laid out.

"Thanks, Punkin.  Man, this does smell amazing.  Gotta get that recipe, Dave," Beiste said.

The group fell silent, with only the sounds of Dave's and Sheldon's slurping audible, for a few minutes, before Kurt took a long sip of water and cleared his throat.  "Well.  This is very pleasant, of course.  But was there a reason you stopped by, Dave - -with moral support?  I'm pretty sure we sent you all your belongings, so - -"

With a longing glance at the stew pot, Dave set his spoon down.  "Actually.  There's kind of something of Blaine's, that I kinda took with me."

"Oh, Dave - whatever of mine made its way into your stuff, it's no big deal.  Throw it out if you don't want it, okay?"

Sheldon nudged Dave.

"It's not ... something I can throw away," Dave stammered.  

"So keep it," Kurt said, a little edgily.  

"I - kind of plan to," Dave said miserably.  "It's.  A baby."

The table seemed frozen like a bad Skype connection.

"Blaine's baby. I'm pregnant."

Everyone still sat there, staring.

"I said I'm - -"

"I heard you!" Kurt shouted.  "Blaine!  How - - how?"   Before Blaine could answer, he slammed his hands down on the table, rattling the dishes.  "How?  Blaine's a bottom!  And he's always so careful about safe sex!"

"Um.  No.  Not always," Dave said.  

"I'm actually versatile," Blaine agreed, faintly, looking as if he was on the verge of passing out, throwing up, or both.

"And I'm strictly a bottom," Dave explained.

"Oh, for God's sake!"

"Listen, Punkins.  I know this isn't an ideal situation, but everybody's gonna have to deal with it.  Dave lost his scholarship because he can't play in his condition.  He has nowhere to live - -"

"So have an abortion!" Kurt roared.  "For the love of - - what are you even wasting time coming here to tell us this?  Just - just get rid of it!"

"I can't do that!"

Dave," Blaine reached across the table.  "Are you  _sure_ I'm - -"

"Yes!  I haven't slept with anybody but you in five months!"

"But.  We're not together," Blaine said, seemingly bewildered.  "I'm -  _married_ , Dave! And - we never intended to have a baby - -  you never mentioned wanting children.  I'm not sure ... I understand why you want this, especially now, with your college football career - - "

"He's trying to hold onto you," Kurt accused, pointing at Dave.  "None of this makes any sense otherwise!"

"That's not it!  I  _told_ Blaine to go back to you!  I wanted him to be happy!  But I can't kill my own baby!  It's against my religion."

The table fell silent again for a long moment.

"Your.  Religion," Kurt said, incredulously.  "What religion are you talking about?"

"I'm Catholic, of course."

Kurt nodded, squinting at Dave.  "So all of a sudden the Catholic Church is a-ok with you having gay sex, and with male pregnancy out of wedlock?"

Dave sighed.  "Look, I know that I'm a sinner in the Church's eyes, excommunicated probably, but ... there's a line.  Abortion is murder for me, I can't commit murder, especially not an innocent baby.  It's non-negotiable."

"C'mon, Dave - that's ridiculous - -" Kurt started, but Blaine cut in.

"Kurt.  It's true."  Surprised, Kurt turned to look at Blaine.  "It's true. Dave  _is_ religious.  He goes to Mass every Sunday, even though he doesn't take communion."

"I'll bet he doesn't, not with the same mouth he - -"

"Kurt, please!" Blaine pleaded.  "Dave is entitled to his beliefs.  And his choice."

Kurt looked defeated suddenly.  "I'm.  Sorry.  I'm just taking all this in," he whispered.  

Blaine took his hand and pressed it.  "I'm sorry you have to," he said.  "And that you're finding out like this."

"Um.  Guys?" Dave piped up.  "I don't want to make any trouble.  But I  _am_ in a lot of trouble.  I need help.  I can't support myself and the baby alone, and - -"

Kurt got up suddenly, shoving the chair backwards with a crash.  "I have to go ... have to be by myself for a while. Don't follow me," he warned Blaine with a look.  "I'll be back.  I promise.  Just - let me have some time to think."

Blaine nodded silently, and Kurt bent to kiss him on the top of the head.  "I'll ... call you if I don't come back tonight.  I love you."

 

 ____________________________________________________________________________

  
The door slammed so hard the pictures shook on the walls.

Sheldon, Blaine and Dave sat in awkward silence at the table for a long moment.

Finally, Blaine coughed. “Kurt’s pretty upset.”

“I got that,” Dave muttered. “But I’m the one whose whole life is turning upside down here, not Kurt. This doesn’t affect him.”

Blaine’s eyes widened. “Doesn’t affect - - are you kidding me with this, Dave? He just found out that his husband is going to be a father - with someone else. I think it’s fair to say this affects him. I honestly don’t know - -” he gulped, then continued in a shaky voice, “I don’t know if this is going to be a deal breaker. He’s cut and run for less than this before.” He rubbed his temples with his thumbs. “My marriage might be over.”

“Well. I hope not, for your sake of course,” Dave said. “But if he dumps you for this, maybe he doesn’t really love you. I mean, you guys weren’t together when this happened.”

“Speaking of that,” Blaine said. “I thought you were on the pill. Do you have any idea how - - ?” he paused.

“I … forgot to tell you, the pill isn't 100% for the first month.”

“Dave. You should’ve told me that. We could’ve used a condom. We should have. You know we weren’t ready for kids, even when we were together. We’re still in school - God, Dave. How could you be so irresponsible?”

“Take it easy, Punkin,” Sheldon said around a mouthful of stew. “That’s water under the butter-churn at this point. There’s no point yelling at the barn door after the sheep already broke in.”

“Right,” Blaine said, raising his eyebrows. “Dave, I - won’t be the kind of father my dad was. I want to be there for my kid. But - I don’t want to lose Kurt. I need a day or two, to figure out how this is going to work. I - may need to quit school and get a job, so I can afford to help you get an apartment in Brooklyn,” he mused.

“Aw HELL, no,” Kurt shrieked from the hallway. He flung the door open and stormed back in.

“Were you listening at the - -”

“At the door, yes. I was listening at my own door, in my own home, to my own husband, proposing to quit school and get a menial job to support his - - his baby daddy! And I won’t have it!”

“Kurt -”

“No, Blaine! You’ve already flunked out of NYADA. You took off this semester to work at Dalton, and that gig is over now. If you drop out of NYU - - you’ll be set back another whole year.”

“I don’t have to drop out, I could just defer - -”

“No! Blaine, no. You have a brilliant mind, you’re an amazing performer. You should be in college, not flipping burgers someplace to support this ham hock!”

“Hey!”

“Shut up, you. No. There has to be another way,” Kurt said, sitting down with a thud at the table. “I - know you need to take responsibility for your child. I - wouldn’t be happy if you turned your back on your child, or - his father. But there must be a way to do it without sacrificing college and your show choir scholarship.”

“I could go back after - -”

“Blaine, when are you going to be able to go back if we have two apartments in Brooklyn? Not to mention daycare, food, medical care for the baby?”

“Brooklyn? I’m moving to Brooklyn?” Dave asked, sneaking another potato out of the stew pot. Blaine looked anxiously at Kurt.

Kurt scowled. “What else would you do? You don’t expect us to stay here in Ohio, do you? Our lives are in New York. Your life is pretty much shot to hell anyway, so what’s keeping you here?”

“Point taken. But what am I going to do in Brooklyn? And where am I going to live?”

“We’ll find you a place,” Blaine reasoned. “And I can work full-time to pay part of the rent. If you could get a job for a while, and make up the rest for a while, until you have the - -”

“Again. Not happening,” Kurt said firmly. “Out of the question.”

“It’s my decision - -”

“No it’s not. It’s _our_ decision, and I say no,” Kurt cut him off. “We'll have to find a two-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn. It'll be expensive, but. We'll figure something out.”

“Um. What.”

“Blaine, you’ll catch flies if you keep your mouth hanging open like that,” Kurt said, calmly buttering a slice of bread.

“You want me to live with you?” Dave said incredulously.

“Actually, on the list of things I want, this is somewhere between anal cancer and ebola infection, but what’s done is done.” Kurt crammed the entire slice of bread in his mouth.

“Kurt. If you’re that unhappy about this - and I can’t blame you, if you are - it can’t work out. I think two studio apartments - one for us, and one for Dave and the baby - is a more realistic solution. “

“We have to be practical, Blaine. Two homes would cost more than we can afford right now.“ He took a deep breath. "Dave, you can come live with us and split the rent.”

“Really?” Dave, Sheldon and Blaine said in unison.

“Sure,” Kurt muttered, reaching for his wine and draining it.


	3. Probation

After their dinner guests left, Kurt and Blaine silently cleared the table and tidied the kitchen together.  They had a routine down pat, requiring no words, with Blaine washing the dishes and Kurt drying them and putting them back in the cabinets; Blaine sweeping the floor and Kurt wiping down the counters.  Blaine pulled the tablecloth, and Kurt replaced it with a fresh one.  All the while, avoiding each other's eyes.

After the tasks were done, Kurt gestured toward the bedroom.  "I'm feeling a little tired.  I think I'll just. Get ready for bed."  Blaine nodded, and Kurt disappeared into the newly freshened bedroom.

When he was alone, Blaine tiredly dropped down on the sofa, leaning his head back.  A baby.  He was going to be a father.  With Dave.  He squeezed his eyes shut.  Just when things were going perfectly with Kurt, after so many ups and downs over the past few years.  Now this.  

He thought about the plan Kurt had proposed.  He couldn't quite get his head around it.  What it would be like to live with his husband and his pregnant ex-boyfriend in a two-bedroom apartment?  

It'd been hard enough living together on their own, or with their respective bffs Rachel and Sam.  How could they navigate their life as newlyweds with a 260-pound reminder of Blaine's rebound relationship taking up space in their small apartment?  

Followed in less than a year with a permanent souvenir of that relationship, in the form of a baby, who would grow into a child that would need so much.  Guidance, discipline, financial support.  Being a parent was a huge job, hard enough for older couples in committed, stable relationships who were eager to have a baby.  What would it be like for the three of them?  And more importantly ... for the new baby?  Because like it or not, the baby was the only person in this situation with no choices, and no responsibility for the mess they were in.  

He stood up and sighed, heading into the bedroom.  Kurt had moved the white marble and chrome makeup table from his room at home into their bedroom, and was sitting before the large, brightly lit mirror performing his nightly skin care ritual.  Blaine paused in the doorway, watching the love of his life, taking in how the graceful fingers skimmed over pale glowing skin.  Kurt looked so delicate, but was really the strongest person he had ever known.

"We have to talk about this," he said.  "Inviting Dave to live with us is too big a deal to rush into without thinking everything through first."

Kurt wiped his hands and put the lid back on the small pot of moisturizer.  "Okay."  He turned his chair, crossed one leg over the other, and folded his hands on his knee.  "Go ahead."

Blaine sat on the edge of the bed facing his husband.

"I get what you're saying about practicalities.  But.  Remember back when you asked me to come to McKinley, and then when I said yes, you were worried it might lead to resentment?"

Kurt nodded.  "I remember.  I thought you might be giving up too much for our relationship, and once I was gone, you might regret having left Dalton. I was right about that."

"Yes, you were.  And when I told you to move to New York, we'd be okay - - you were worried about what might happen with us.  You were right then too."

Kurt chewed his lip worriedly.

Blaine took a deep breath.  This part was hardest of all.  "And remember when I asked you to marry me.  You.  Had doubts, didn't you?  Right from the start.  You thought we were too young.  But ... you loved me and wanted to believe it could work.  And then we moved in with Rachel and Sam, before we talked about it.  And we loved each other so much, but we couldn't make it work, and I had to move out ... and then back in ... and then it still didn't work ..."

"What are you getting at with all this?" Kurt asked, a tremble in his voice.

"I guess what I'm getting at, is that ..." he got up from the bed and knelt in front of Kurt's chair, taking his hand and looking up at his paling face.  "...our marriage is the most treasured thing in the world to me - but if I have a child, that's my number one responsibility.  Making sure that he, or she, or they, grow up in a happy, loving, stable home.  Can that work with you and Dave living in the same space?  Or are we setting ourselves up for another big failure as a married couple ... and as parents ... by trying it?"

"Blaine.  You don't get it.  The baby Dave is carrying? It's part of _you_ , it's your family.  If I'm committed to you, then ... this isn't just _your_ problem, _your_ baby.  It's mine too.  This idea isn't just about keeping you in school, or saving money.  It's a way that we can be part of the baby's day-to-day life once it gets here.  I want that for you, for us, I really do."

"But that doesn't answer the question about whether we can make it work with you and Dave in close quarters.  It isn't a good thing for the baby to be living in a house where there's anger or resentment."  Blaine tightened his hand on Kurt's.  "You wouldn't know what that's like for a child ... your parents and stepparents were happily married.  Mine weren't.  I spent my whole childhood listening to fighting, being forced to pick sides, trying to be the peacemaker, and then ... Dad just gave up and left us."

"You're afraid that's going to happen with us?  That I'll end up walking out?"

"I hope not, but in the past, we haven't always handled pressure on our relationship that well.   Living with my ex?  That's the biggest challenge we've ever had.  If there's tension between us, or between you and Dave ... that's bad for the baby _and_ bad for our marriage."

Kurt nodded, then reached out and ran a hand over Blaine's hair.  "There's a difference between now and what we've been through before," he said softly.  "I've learned from all those other mistakes.  I've learned that I want to make a life with you, no matter what.  I'm not saying there won't ever be any tension or any arguments, or any bad days.  But ... what if we give it a chance, a trial run, while Dave is pregnant and the baby is small.  There'll be time to figure out if we can make it work before the baby is old enough to know what's happening.  If we find out it isn't going to work, we can always go to plan B."

"Put this arrangement on probation, you mean?"

"Yes.  Let's say ... we agree to stick it out no matter what until the baby turns a year old.  Then we can re-evaluate the situation."

Blaine considered it, studying Kurt's face intently.  "Okay.  We'll tell Dave this is a trial run, until the baby is one, then see where we go from there."

 


	4. Chapter 4

"So.  Here we all are," Dave said.  He turned the key in the lock of the new apartment, and swung the door open. "What do you two think?"  

Holding Kurt's hand, Blaine looked around curiously.   The apartment had an open floor plan, with an island dividing the galley kitchen from the wood-floored living room.  There were two small bedrooms on either side of a tiny gray-tiled bathroom, and a back door that opened up into a small garden.   But this was Brooklyn, not Lima.

"How can we afford it?" he asked, finally.  "It has to be $2,000 a month or more."

"$3,000," Dave said.  "And that's a bargain, too.  This is a newly restored brownstone garden apartment, and we get this entire floor.  Look at that woodwork around the bay window.  And that copper ceiling in the kitchen area."

"$3,000 a month! You never said the place cost this much!  You know our budget is $1,800!"

Kurt nodded in agreement.  "Why even bother looking at it?  Let's just go- -"

"Well, let me finish.  This is the great part!  The owners used to live here and manage the building, but they've moved to California. They're willing to let us be the building supers.  Then we can live here for half-price.  It's a great deal - and $300 a month under our budget."

Blaine admired the gleaming, white-and-black tile back splash over the kitchen sink, and the stainless steel appliances, but shut the refrigerator door regretfully.  "But we don't have any experience in building management.  I don't see how we can agree to take this on."  

"Don't be a wet blanket, Blaine!  I know basic handyman stuff," Kurt piped up unexpectedly.  "My dad taught me a lot - simple plumbing, basic electric, drywall."  He squealed as he opened the bathroom door.  "It's a full bathroom with a footed tub! Oh my God, I love it!"

Dave eagerly joined in, "I took Wood Shop I through IV in high school, and I used to do a lot of carpentry in my spare time.  I even worked for a carpenter two summers.  And the building is in good shape, and there's not too many tenants.  I'll do most of it, but with you two helping, it shouldn't be too bad."

"Well, okay, you two are good at home repair, but I'm really not ... I kind of tuned out whenever my father tried to bond with me and teach me anything," Blaine admitted.  "I'm not sure how much I can add to the team."

"Well, you can help with scheduling, call-backs, bringing in contractors if we need something beyond the basic repair.  And there's always spackling and painting.  You're great at house-painting, Boo - - Blaine."

"Yes, Boo-Blaine," Kurt said sharply, and Dave turned red, mumbling an apology that Kurt ignored.  

Kurt tapped on the walls and stood by the ceiling-to-floor windows on either side of a fireplace.  He turned around, looking impressed.  "But honestly?  This place is amazing.  And I think we can handle being superintendents. We can learn what we need as we go.  I see that's an intercom by the front door?"

"Yeah," Dave said eagerly.  "When a tenant needs something, they can buzz us down here. It's a little old-fashioned.  Of course they can call the management line or put a note under the door.  We'll be on call 24/7, but for free rent, I can't complain."

Kurt cautioned, "Just be sure you're not handing any toxic chemicals or going up any high ladders, in your condition. Save that stuff for me."

Dave nodded, ducking his head down. "So it's up to you, Blaine.  It needs to be unanimous.  Are we teaming up on running this building?" Dave asked, anxiously, putting his hand out, palm down.  

"I'm in," Kurt said eagerly, placing his hand over Dave's. 

With an uncertain sigh, Blaine shrugged and put his hand on top.  

"Team Kurblave!" Dave exclaimed, as Kurt rolled his eyes, but gamely joined in with Dave's cheer.


End file.
